


inside bets

by sabinelagrande



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Background Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Bisexual Disaster Richard Herring, Breastfeeding (a literal baby), Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Season/Series 10, Size Difference, Size Kink, Voyeurism, Zoom Roulette, Zoom Sex, adults using their words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Richard is attempting a teambuilding exercise. He is also attempting other things, but with much more floundering.
Relationships: Greg Davies & Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Richard Herring, Richard Herring/Catie Wilkins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	inside bets

Richard came up with the whole thing. It is silly, but it was the action of a desperately bored man who thrived on human interaction and wasn't getting nearly enough. It was a testament to everyone's state of mind that the whole thing was adopted with minimal fuss.

The idea is this:

"So it's just random?" Daisy says, as she, Richard, Johnny, Katherine, Mawaan, Greg, and Alex sit on their standing Zoom call, which started during studio filming and didn't stop.

"Yeah," Richard says. "You get a Zoom link, and somebody else gets the matching one, and you have a chat, maybe drink a beer, whatever you like."

"If you can make it so I can have a beer, I'd be all for it," Daisy says, shifting the very small child on her chest.

"It's called pump and dump," Katherine says, and Daisy looks curious. "I'll send you a link."

"So basically you're proposing a key party, but for Zoom," Johnny says.

"This is absolutely not a key party," Katherine says firmly.

"What's a key party?" Mawaan asks.

"Christ, I'm old," Greg moans, probably for the third time that day.

"Eh, I'm in," Daisy says. "I'd love to have a conversation with an adult who's not my husband."

"Same," Alex says. He thinks about this. "I haven't got a husband, but you know what I mean."

"I'll have to fit it in around all the social obligations I don't have," Mawaan says.

"Won't be my first key party," Johnny says, smirking.

"This is not a key party!" Katherine says.

"It's consensus, then," Greg says.

"Brilliant," Richard says.

And then shortly after that call ends, he realizes it was much simpler in his head. But he gets some help and he does some business with ill-gotten accounts and dummy passwords and he figures out exactly how to make the thing he pretended was easy actually turn out easy for everyone else. In the spirit of fairness, he even randomizes his own meetups, so he'll be just as in the dark as anyone else.

So the time comes for number one, and Richard has an odd feeling that it will be Greg. Richard's not sure how he feels about that. Greg is amazing, he's always been in awe of Greg in a certain respect, but, there's just, things are maybe different now.

Richard starts the meeting, and it's not Greg.

\--

Mawaan is on another level; the way his brain works is fascinating. It doesn't necessarily always work in what Richard would term as a productive way, but other than when you're trying to fill an egg with helium, interesting beats productive any time.

"Mate, if you're not afraid of getting got by a cassowary, I can't help you," Mawaan tells him.

"They live in another hemisphere," Richard says. "I am never going to meet a cassowary."

"See, what's what they want you to think," Mawaan says. "Hard to get livestock out of Australia, right?"

"Uh," Richard says. "I have no idea, but I'll take your word for it."

"That's why you go through one of the other islands," Mawaan says. "You get the cassowary, and you drug it, right? That part's very important."

"Oh, of course," Richard says.

"You paint it like an emu, bandage its legs so you can't see the talons, British authorities are never gonna know," Mawaan says. "Then you take the cassowary- you have to keep it on the drugs."

"Very important," Richard says. "Don't want a cassowary with the shakes."

"You take it to the house of whoever you need assassinated," Mawaan says.

"Wait, what?" Richard says.

"Then you just leave it there and- this is important- you let the drugs wear off," Mawaan says. "Then you've got a disorientated cassowary running around that'll kill anything that it fucking sees. It takes care of whoever you like, runs off, the neighbors say, 'Yeah, this buff emu came running out covered in blood,' local emu farmer gets done for murder, you're off the hook."

Richard just stares at him for a moment.

"No one in the fullness of all human existence has had this plan that you are telling me is obvious," Richard says.

"And if I ever need to do it, you're going to keep your mouth shut, because no one would believe you anyway," Mawaan says.

"I really hope you never decide to assassinate me," Richard says.

"Nah, don't think I'll probably assassinate anyone," Mawaan says. "Just interesting to think about." He pauses. "I probably can't afford a cassowary anyway."

\--

So the first round goes well; Richard receives reports that people generally enjoy doing this, which is good. Richard needed the connection, and he knows that these are the kind of people who need that same connection. If not, well, this is optional, he's not going to call anybody up and demand to know why they're not on Zoom.

He's still trying to figure out about the thing with Greg. He said some things, and some things got said, and he can choose to never say a word about it ever again and it'll evaporate. It was nothing, it was something said in the name of comedy, and that makes it meaningless. If you repeat that enough, it almost starts to feel true.

But it's time for the second go-round, and maybe this time it will be Greg. He can just sort himself out and it'll be nothing.

Richard starts the meeting, and it's not Greg.

\--

Johnny has discovered TikTok.

Johnny manages to be younger than Richard and also a gaffer who's just been pulled from a bench in the park where he was talking to the pigeons while he threw them pieces of bread. Richard finds it incredibly charming and would never, ever tell Johnny so, because it would doubtlessly ruin the effect.

"Look, and then they respond to each other with this duet thing," Johnny, who has not learned to screenshare but has learned to use the chat function, says, sending Richard another link. "There's a whole musical about a grocery store, hold on-"

The musical about the grocery store is admittedly hilarious, but how pleased Johnny is that Richard thinks it's hilarious is so much better.

"Do you think I should get on TikTok?" Johnny asks, seeming completely sincere.

"Well, the app is kind of a security risk," Richard starts. Johnny gives him the look of a man whose luggage is set to 1-2-3-4-5, so Richard changes tack. "Honestly, I think you'd be a hit. People could use the lift, I think."

"Hmm," Johnny says, looking at his phone. "Well, maybe I'll see if I can figure out how to set it up."

"Best of luck," Richard says.

\--

No problems with round two; everything is smooth sailing.

Aside from the part where Richard is tying himself into knots because a friend of his said something kinky to him and it made his palms sweat and his heart race. It just felt like Greg _meant_ it, like it wasn't a joke, like he was saying it because he had Richard's number and not because he thought it was funny.

The term Richard's general state of being, as he is aware of because he lives on the internet now, is "bisexual disaster," but anyway, it's time for round three.

Richard starts the meeting, and it's not Greg.

\--

Daisy actively has a tit out the entire time.

Richard's not as bothered as he could be; he's got kids, he knows sometimes there's a tit that's at work and not strictly for viewing purposes. He just keeps his eyes on her face and only looks down when the tit has a baby on it.

"I would kill a man in cold blood for a cocktail," Daisy says, in a way that suggests she is not kidding.

"I hesitate to mention this, lest I seem like a mansplainer," Richard says.

"Jesus's balls," she says wearily. "Go on, then."

"My wife tells me pump and dump isn't the accepted wisdom anymore," he says. "Apparently if you only have a glass or two, it isn't enough to hurt anything."

"Oh thank god," she says, her shoulders slumping. "The thought of pouring it down the sink made me want to die, when it's so fucking hard to get out."

"I mean, probably I would suggest some research," he says. "I don't think your GP would accept 'Richard Herring told me to' as a good reason. Mine doesn't even take that off of me."

"If you told your GP 'Richard Herring told me to', there's a kind of specialist he'd send you to," she says.

"Oh, I already see one of those," he says.

"Same," Daisy says. "I think she's started thinking I'm an alcoholic."

Richard sighs. "Everybody's been telling you that it would make you a horrible human being if you did something you used to do all the time that felt nice, and it makes you feel worse that you can't stop thinking about it, even if it's like the proverbial elephant," he says. Daisy gives him a suspicious look. "I've never been pregnant, but I've been through this song and dance. You'll be fine."

"Well," she says, adjusting the baby. "It's been worth it, but I might get Will to pick me something up. I've been craving the cheapest bubbly pink shit imaginable."

"That's the spirit," he says, and Daisy laughs.

\--

And then Richard starts having doubts.

Well, that's a lie. The nature of Richard's doubts changes. The thing is that he- He currently has absolutely no game plan regarding how to handle the Greg situation, which is so far not so much a situation as a sustained panic attack. He doesn't know where he's going with any of it. What his mind has seized on in self-defense is what everyone is thinking. Everyone basically assumes Alex and Greg have something going on, a thing Greg rolls his eyes about and Alex seems to be actively promoting. Richard absolutely has bigger things to worry about, much more pressing issues that are vastly more serious, but he keeps picking at it, like you pick at a string sticking from the arm of a sofa or probe at a sore tooth.

He starts the meeting, and it's Alex.

\--

"You look worried," Alex says, his forehead creasing.

Most people can't tell when Richard is worried; he's very aware that he has a kind of nervous energy that fakes people out. Somehow it makes sense that Alex, who's incredibly perceptive and also an odd duck, would be the one to point it out.

"Oh, you know," Richard says. "Probably just wind."

"Right," Alex says, looking unconvinced.

They talk for a little while, normal stuff, superficial stuff. Richard gets comfortable with it, because he likes Alex; nothing wrong with having a chat with him.

"I just feel like you really want to tell me something," Alex says, once he's lulled Richard into a false sense of security.

"You'd make a great cold reader," Richard says, trying to cover for feeling caught out.

"I actually learned how to, thought it could be useful on stage," Alex says. "It's just that it's funnier if you do it badly."

"You're not wrong about that," Richard says.

"So do you want me to make you think I know, or do you want to just tell me?" Alex asks, like there is not a third option.

Richard scratches his forehead, trying to decide which is worse. "Are you and Greg a thing?" he says, and now it's out there, Alex definitely knows why he's asking, it's all in play.

Alex doesn't look nearly as surprised as Richard expected. "I guess that depends on how you define a thing," Alex says.

"How do you mean?" Richard says, frowning.

"I wasn't expecting Greg," Alex says. "I needed him in a professional sense, but we have nothing in common. Our lives are completely separate, but he makes my life better. I'm not the same without him." Richard tries to find a politic way to reiterate his actual question, but Alex beats him to the punch. "But if you're trying to figure out if we sleep together, the answer's no."

"Oh," Richard says. "Huh." His puzzlement outruns his good sense. "Why not?"

"Um," Alex says, looking caught off-guard. "I like to be the tall one, mostly. And I am married, after all. I'm afraid I do love her more than I love Greg, though I am very fond of him."

Richard tries to resettle his brain, slot things together. "The two of you are very-" he waves a hand. "Sweet? That's a weird way to put it. You're good for each other and, it's just that- if that went anywhere, you know, naked, I would want to be clear about it."

Alex has this expression on his face like he can't decide whether to be bewildered or amused or just a good sport. "Look," he says. "I know you want to, ah-"

Alex very rarely swears, and Richard has the sneaking suspicion that's why he's stalled out. He's just going to let this go for a minute, because he's not sure he wants to put that particular word in Alex's mouth, especially if it wasn't there to start with.

"I know you're interested in Greg," Alex says instead. Richard considers protesting before Alex continues. "You don't have to pretend that you're not. I'm not going to judge you for it or say anything to him. As far as I'm concerned, it's not my business, and my opinion doesn't matter. But, ah." Alex looks like he isn't sure whether to continue.

"Yeah?" Richard says, desperately curious what comes next.

"I do know that he wouldn't say no," Alex says, and Richard's eyebrows go up. "That's all I really feel comfortable saying about it, but if there's nothing else stopping you, he wouldn't stop you either."

"That- wow," Richard says, running his hand through his hair. "Thanks, I think."

"You can feel free to either confide in me or never bring it up again," Alex says helpfully.

"I'll probably take you up on one of those things," Richard says. "I just don't know which one yet."

"It'll come to you," Alex says.

\--

He gets off the line to Alex, and it's late; the light is on in his and Catie's bedroom, which means she's in the process of going to bed. When he walks in, that's just what she's doing. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and otherwise they go about their business. He feels weird and numb, like his head is overfilled; he can't decide if he wants her to notice or if he just wants to go to sleep.

They've just gotten into bed, and Richard is contemplating nodding off when Catie turns towards him, propped up on one elbow.

"C'mon, Rich," she says softly, and that is absolutely all it takes. It all just comes out of him, the entire thing, unvarnished, because he can't lie to her and he never could and he never wants to.

"Oh," Catie says when he's done dropping his heart onto the bed between them. There's a pause for one, two, three beats. "I kind of thought about fucking the woman at the stationery shop, but nothing came of it," she says, with comedic precision.

Richard laughs, surprised and relieved all at once. "What were you even doing at the stationery shop?"

"Well I needed a calendar," she says defensively. "Then I needed some cards-"

"Right, sure," he says. "Desperately needed to send some notes, did you?"

She puts an arm around his waist and pulls him close. "You did a whole television show."

"That is absolutely not why I did it," he says, settling in against her, which is true and misrepresentative. His wanting to fuck Greg started before he did Taskmaster, but he wanted to be on Taskmaster for its own sake.

"Whatever you say," she says, and then they talk.

And he feels better. Not perfect, but better, and with considerably more of a plan.

\--

It has occurred to him multiple times that he could have rigged this entire thing. He didn't know he wanted to rig it until well into the process, but now there are only two slots left. It's a straight up and down coin flip, or he can unpick the whole thing, significant unraveling but maybe worth it.

But he lets it lie, takes what comes to him, flips the coin.

He starts the meeting, and it's not Greg.

Katherine is brilliant and she's funny and she's the kind of person who's easy to fool, because she takes things at face value. If Richard smiles a lot and teases her and asks the right questions, she'll think everything is perfectly fine. Richard doesn't even mind doing it; being an interviewer is a thing he sort of backed into, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done perfectly good episodes on days where he felt like shit and wanted to be anywhere else. They have a lovely conversation and Richard actually feels better at the end of it.

And then they end the meeting, and Richard is alone in his office. He realizes at that point that he could prepare for a million years and still be fucked.

\--

But finally, inevitably, inexorably, as was always going to be the case one day and seemed impossible-

He starts the meeting, and it's Greg.

\--

The first words out of Greg's mouth are, "Please take down that background, you look like a twat."

It surprises a laugh out of Richard. "Do you prefer to stare at a greenscreen?"

"Yes," Greg says firmly. "I would rather you look like the unprocessed version of a Batman movie than whatever that is."

"I'm flattered you think I look like Batman," Richard says.

"You look more like Alfred," Greg tells him.

Richard snorts. "It's actually on a boom, if you want to see what a tragedy my office is."

"I'd prefer it," Greg says.

It's not hard; Richard just changes the setting on Zoom, then reaches up and pushes the greenscreen towards the wall. For once it moves like it's supposed to, swinging out of the way to reveal the rest of the room. It's not dreadful, but it's also not up to being seen by visitors; nobody's visiting anybody these days, and people don't usually come in here anyway.

"There, isn't that nicer?" Greg says approvingly. "That's a room somebody could have a conversation in, not speedrun Mario."

"I am shocked you know what a speedrun is," Richard says.

"I know it's a thing children do on the internet in booths much like this one, and that you can do it to Mario," Greg says.

"I wonder how Mawaan would feel about this conversation," Richard says.

"We have forgiven Mawaan for being an internet child," Greg says. He's laying back in a chair, maybe on a balcony or in front of a plate glass door, and he puts a hand behind his head, looking loose and relaxed. It looks very good on him, even though Greg has a habit of thinking people are mocking him when they say he's attractive, which he is. "How are you, anyway? I haven't seen you for ages."

Greg has a way of making people feel warm, or maybe it's just Richard that he has that effect on; usually it makes him loosen up, but it's not working today. He has no idea if Greg will call him out on it like Alex did, but he feels like he's coiling like a spring. He has to release it or he's just going to pop, and he can't make it go, can't push it.

"And you just really do not need to know where he hid it," Richard says, because out of panic he's rambled into a story about a thing one of his kids did. "I don't want to know, and I was there."

"This is a very good example of why I'm perfectly happy to let other men be fathers," Greg says.

Richard realizes he's bumbled into it, that this is where he can hook in; for fuck's sake, please let it catch. "I don't think father is what people generally refer to you as," he says, though it's one of the least smooth transitions to a sexual topic that anyone has ever made. "And it's not dad either."

Greg laughs, because he caught it, thank fuck. "If I have to pick one option, I really would vastly prefer to be called daddy than dad," he says.

"Is that something you get from people all the time?" Richard asks.

"It's a way people have felt about me, and sometimes I entertained it and sometimes I didn't," Greg says, with a striking level of nonchalance. "You don't know about this, because you're fun-sized, but when you're big people want you to be scary and aggressive in bed. That's what they assume of you, even when it's ridiculous and tiring."

"I don't know whether or not I should thank you for choosing 'fun-sized' to describe me," Richard says, and now he feels guilty that he's in that camp, people who have, essentially, objectified Greg, despite the fact that that's never been his intention. He's attracted to the entirety of Greg, which just overlaps with his physical form but isn't the whole of it.

"Oh, believe me, I can come up with plenty more options," Greg says.

"But sometimes you did entertain it," Richard says, because he can't let it go.

"Yeah," Greg says, shrugging. "I don't have much interest in getting too serious about it, but now and again, why not?" He frowns, looking at Richard contemplatively for a moment. "I was going to say that this had stopped being theoretical a while back, but it never was, was it?"

Richard feels like his throat is going to close up. "You're making it sound like I ambushed you."

"I don't feel ambushed at all," Greg says plainly.

"Yeah, alright," Richard says. "I- I had decided that-" He gestures with his hands, trying to make the words come out. "When you invite somebody to your place, and you wouldn't stop them from leaving if they weren't having it, but if they were-"

"Stop tying yourself in knots, it's fine," Greg says, with such an unexpected gentleness that it punches Richard in the chest. Greg's face grows more serious. "Does your wife know?"

"Yeah," Richard says. Greg raises his eyebrow in a way that says that one affirmative has failed to convey anything, so Richard hastens to add, "In a 'we talked about other people a long time ago but nothing ever came of it and when I awkwardly told her about this it turned out we were both still largely fine with the idea' way."

"That seems fair enough," Greg says, and Richard can't help the way he sighs. Greg rolls his eyes fondly. "You do need to calm down, you know that?"

"Oh, it's never happened before, I don't know why you think it would happen now," Richard says.

"How do you see this going?" Greg asks. Something in his manner has changed, something Richard would not be able to put a name to, a shift that makes him seem completely different, powerful. "What do you want from me? Keep in mind that I am an inherently lazy person and not leaving my house."

"I hadn't got that far," Richard lies, like a lying liar who isn't telling the truth and is instead telling a lie.

"Yes, you have," Greg says, which isn't a surprise. "You're a clever boy. You've already sussed it out. You just don't want to say."

"You can be really threatening sometimes, you know that?" Richard says, trying to make it sound like a joke even though it isn't.

"Oh, I haven't even started being threatening yet, if that's what you actually want from me," Greg says, and there's a dark promise in it that makes Richard swallow hard. "This is just what I look like with a straight face."

"So that's why I haven't seen it," Richard says, scrabbling for metaphorical purchase even though this is where he wanted to end up.

"Do you want to do this, or have you changed your mind?" Greg says, with infinite gentleness.

"Ah," Richard says. He can't answer eloquently, so he just goes for honesty. "I'm incredibly hard right now and having massive stage fright."

"That doesn't sound like you," Greg says.

"Which part?" Richard says.

"Just tell me one thing," Greg says, in a voice Richard hasn't heard from him before but wants to hear a billion more times, something sly and seductive that Greg would deny he could even pull off, even though he is pulling it off quite well. "One little thing. Anything that you want or you like or you find attractive. Just to get started. Break the ice."

Richard, having wound himself up tighter and tighter and tighter over the course of what has now been a while, finally snaps like a guitar string. "Fucking hell," he says, putting his head in his hand. "I want to suck your cock so fucking badly."

"Well," Greg says expressively. "That wasn't little at all, but we'll certainly take it."

Richard looks up at the screen. "And that's alright?"

"Frankly, I'd be delighted," Greg says. The corner of his lip curls up. "Now we've started. Wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It wasn't exactly easy," Richard says, the understatement of the year.

"But you did it, and now you can do it again," Greg says, like it's not a question but a done thing. "It's not all sex for you, is it? There's more that you need."

"It, it does something to me when you call me boy," Richard says, which feels like it's being ripped out of his ribcage. It's not going to get any better, so he just says what he means. "I want to be your boy desperately."

"There we are," Greg says, and something about it feels like a caress, even though they're just two images on a pair of screens. "That's a good boy. I'm quite pleased with you."

"Thank you, daddy," Richard says, without even thinking about it.

"You're all worked up for Daddy, aren't you," Greg says, and it curls into Richard's stomach.

"I feel like my skin is on fire," Richard says; it seems more representative than the fact he's so hard that his jeans feel like a torture device. It's not just that he's horny, because he's been horny loads of times. This is an entirely different sensation, like he's an exposed nerve, a live wire, like every feeling is amplified a thousand times.

"I'll take that as a definite yes," Greg says smugly. "What do you want to do for me, boy? I know you want me to fuck your mouth-"

"Christ," Richard hisses, his fingernails digging into the arm of his chair at hearing it said like that, everything it entails and implies.

"- and I'll do it just as soon as I can," Greg continues. "But what will you give me right now?"

"I'll give you anything you want, daddy," Richard says, completely earnest.

"You know, I think you would," Greg says. He looks at Richard like he's going to take pity on him. "Do you want Daddy to tell you what to do, boy?"

"Please," Richard says.

"Is the door locked?" Greg says, and Richard blanches. Greg just shakes his head. "Go lock the door."

Richard is out of his chair so fast it gets pushed backwards. No one was going to interrupt him, but now he would _really_ like no one to interrupt him. He locks the door and, quite honestly, shoves a chair under the knob just for insurance.

He comes back to the computer as quickly as possible. "Don't sit down," Greg says, and Richard hesitates. "I want to see you strip. Would you do that for me?"

Richard says. "Yes, daddy." He considers the angles for a moment, then reaches for the webcam. "Let me just-"

"There we go," Greg says, after Richard adjusts it for a bit of a better view. "Now I can see my boy properly." Richard flushes a bit, but Greg gives him a stern look. "Now off with it."

Richard hopes he isn't supposed to be being alluring or any of that shit, because actually, he throws his clothes off as quickly as he possibly can, tossing them any which where in his quest to obey as fast as humanly possible. He leaves the socks, because sexy isn't his forte anyway and hopping around bare-assed trying to get them off sounds untenable.

It doesn't really occur to him until he's naked that he has just gotten naked for Greg, that this is an actual thing that has happened. He is suddenly horribly self-conscious of the fact that he is a middle-aged man- older, in fact, than a man he is currently referring to as daddy- with all the bodily woes that go with that.

"Look at me," Greg says sharply, and Richard's eyes snap back to the screen, which he hadn't rightly known he'd looked away from. Greg is not looking at him like he sees something used up or ridiculous; Greg is looking at him like he sees something to catch and eat, prey to be taken down. Richard- it's not exactly that he feels better, but that he feels something slamming into his gut, a feeling that matters so much more, the intense need to be caught.

"Once I've had your mouth, I'll just have to have the rest of you," Greg says. Richard has forgotten how words work and doesn't answer. "What do we say when someone gives us a compliment, boy?"

Richard swallows hard. "Thank you, daddy," he says, though his mouth feels completely dry.

"Put your left hand around your neck," Greg says. It strikes Richard as an odd request, but he does it anyway. "Don't choke yourself, boy, just rest it there." Richard loosens his grip, though he still doesn't know what he's doing. Greg is moving, doing something off camera, and Richard is pretty sure what it is.

"Um, Daddy?" Richard says.

"Yes, boy?" Greg says, though he's still shifting around, the camera jostling slightly.

"Can I see you?" Richard asks, trying to sound perfectly normal and not as plaintive as he feels.

Greg stills, looking kind of thrown by the question. "Yeah, I suppose," he says, sounding unconvinced. He looks around, and then the camera moves to a higher angle, which knowing Greg means he just put his laptop on a box or something. All that matters is that when the camera is tilted down, Greg is reclining, his clothing pushed out of the way so his cock is exposed. Richard just knew he was hung, and it's so unbelievably appealing all laid out that he wants to come through the screen.

Or maybe on the screen. With any luck, they'll get there.

"I was going to ask you if you liked what you saw, but you look like you're going to start drooling on the floor," Greg says, an eyebrow raised.

Richard tries to find something to say that's alluring or appropriate and fails utterly. "Fuck, you've got a nice cock."

Greg wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly from base to tip, and Richard's brain shorts out. "And you'll take every inch of it, won't you, my good boy?"

"Yes, please," Richard says quickly, and Greg smirks.

"Now, before you interrupted me," Greg says, "I was going to tell you why you have your hand around your neck."

"I am curious," Richard says, though he hasn't dared to move it.

"Because that's where I'm going to put my hand," Greg says. "It's not as small as yours, so you'll have to imagine how far my fingers can reach." Richard swallows, so aware of how he can feel the motion of it. "But I'm going to hold you right there, so you can't forget who you belong to."

"Oh fuck," Richard breathes. He can feel it; his pulse is beating under his fingers, and Greg would feel the same thing, Richard's life in his hands. He clenches his hand just a little so he can feel it more, his fingers splaying wider, like it would be with a much bigger set than his.

"I think I'll pin you down by it while I fuck you," Greg says, his voice perfectly cool, and Richard makes a noise that is completely involuntary. Greg moves his hand faster on his cock, like he's enjoying having Richard caught like this; the way Richard is dripping onto the fucking floor, he's perfectly fine with it too. "Is that how you like it, boy? You couldn't get away from me. You're too small and I'm too big. You'd have to let me do it."

"I don't want to get away, daddy," Richard says. "I want to do whatever you want."

"That's a good boy," Greg says, and Richard can't explain how those words feel like cool water on the back of his neck, how they soothe him and make him shiver at the same time. "But Daddy doesn't hurt his boy, does he?"

"No, daddy," Richard says. He can't decide if that was an offer or a statement or what, but he knows his answer. "I only ever want to be good for you."

"I know you'll be good, darling, because you're a very good boy," Greg says. His voice is still level, but he's running out of breath. "Touch your cock for me, boy."

Richard doesn't waste an instant, keeping his left hand right where it goes and getting his other hand around his dick as quickly as possible. He can't remember the last time he was this hard, and his brain is completely scrambled with it.

"What a good boy," Greg says. "Let me see how you like it. I want to know all about my boy before you come all over yourself for me."

"Daddy," Richard says, losing his grip on everything but the fantasy, the idea of Greg above him, working his cock in and out of his mouth or his ass. He'd take every bit of it, everything he was given.

"You do like this," Greg says, in a knowing voice. "You want this, don't you? You want me to take you and keep you."

"Yes," Richard gasps. "Oh god, yes-"

"Stop," Greg says suddenly.

Richard is so thrown that he actually does, his hand instantly stilling on his cock even though it hurts. He was so close to coming that he has to bite his lip to keep it together. He feels utterly betrayed, to be honest, and it's almost too much to bear.

"Why did you stop, boy?" Greg says, he hasn't stopped, his hand working even quicker now.

"Because you made me," Richard says.

"Why did you stop?" Greg says again. Richard knows the answer and bites his lip again. "Say it or you won't come."

"Because I'm a good boy," Richard says, and it means something different said like that, not a desire but a fact.

"Correction," Greg says. "You're my good boy, doing exactly what you're told so well." Richard feels lost, but the words get to him, twisting into some part of his brain that makes him light up with pleasure even as his cheeks go red. "My perfect boy, to use however I want."

"Thank you, daddy," Richard pants.

"Do you want to come with Daddy?" Greg asks.

"God yes, please," Richard says. "I'll be such a good boy, please don't leave me like this."

"Never," Greg says. "Now come on, you can come when I do, but you better make it quick."

"Yes, daddy," Richard says, grabbing his cock immediately. It occurs to him there could be another trick, but he hopes desperately that Daddy is telling the truth.

Greg is panting now, his hand moving fast enough that it's blurring slightly because of the wifi signal. His cock looks so fucking good it's impossible, and Richard wants him so much, wants this thing to spiral out, doesn't want to give up how it feels in his spine when Greg tells him he's good. He needs Greg so desperately, and he needs Daddy, and he'll be the best boy he possibly can to keep them.

"I need you to come in my mouth, daddy," Richard says, lost in wanting, and Greg sucks in a breath; almost instantly he's coming, his big, lovely cock shooting mostly onto his shirt. Richard soaks in the look of him for a moment, but then he bites his lip hard and follows, coming so hard his vision goes a bit weird. It doesn't even matter, because he feels like he's been wrapped in cotton wool, insulated.

He puts his hand on the edge of his desk, breathing heavily; on the screen, Greg is doing much the same thing, one hand behind his head, still not put together at all but looking now more like a bear that you could sleep on. This is a thing that also sounds nice, but it could be because Richard's an inveterate cuddler.

"You can take your hand of your neck and collapse into your chair, if you'd like," Greg says.

Richard, who hadn't realized he was still holding his neck, stops doing it, straightening up and stretching his back. He doesn't actually want to sit bare-assed in his chair, so he grabs whatever piece of clothing is handy- his t-shirt- and throws it over the seat.

"Oh god," Richard says, after he collapses into his chair and looks around, and little does he know his filter has not come back online. "I got jizz everywhere." Greg, clearly caught off-guard, cracks up, a big, genuine laugh. "I'm serious! It got on the floor, the desk-" He wipes at a drop that's landed on the keyboard. "I don't know how this happened."

"Probably because you just stood there and let it go off like a fountain," Greg says.

"I was preoccupied," Richard says, which does not seem to sway Greg in the least.

Greg sighs loudly. "Jesus Christ, that was a hell of a thing."

"Yeah, I'd say so," Richard says. "You had the easy job. You just had to lay back and wank."

"I don't want you to walk away from this thinking I didn't have fun or I wouldn't do it again," Greg says carefully, "but that shit is exhausting."

"You make it look natural," Richard says, a little confused.

"I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment," Greg says, which is fine, because it was. "You have to come up with all that dialogue on the fly, and then sell it, and then not accidentally feel like a knob halfway through when you realize what you're saying and lose your rhythm. This is why I don't give it out to everybody. It takes a dedicated effort that I'm only willing to make for people I genuinely like. I am not kidding about being lazy."

"Huh," Richard says, because it's a lot of information to take in at once. "Are you, um, are you potentially willing to make that effort again? For me?"

"I had been working under the assumption that that's what was on the table," Greg says, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, no, definitely," Richard rushes to say. "I mean, we have to figure it all out, guidelines, kind of a deal."

"We'll talk," Greg says. "Not tonight. But we'll talk." 

"I'd like that," Richard says.

"You wouldn't," Greg says. "You'll like the result, but you'll hate the talking part."

"That's a bold claim," Richard says, mostly because he's annoyed that it sounds so plausible. "And are you saying you like it?"

"No, but I already know what I'm going to say," Greg says.

"Maybe this is yet another one of those meetings that could be an email," Richard says, and Greg snorts.

\--

The next morning, Richard sends Alex an aubergine. Alex sends him a thumbs up and a question mark. Richard sends him three of the one that's 100 with a line under it. Alex sends him a laughing face and another thumbs up. For the two of them, this is a highly advanced emoji usage.

It gets the point across.

\--

Zoom roulette is not attempted again, but they don't fall out of touch; Richard is just the type to check up on people, which helps. Things are progressing, life is going on, they are moving towards something, even if nobody knows what that is yet.

Subsequently, Richard spends considerably more time on Zoom; certain people do not like to set up meetings when they have boys to do it for them and very much do not like to be kept waiting. Catie does not forgive him for getting come in the keyboard and makes him buy another one after the U key stops working, but everything else goes alright. Richard's good, after all, and every good boy does fine.


End file.
